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Valais, Switzerland – It is an evasion of sorts and an escape marked by sadness. My sister in-law passed away last week at the age of 52; too young a death to accept, and yet that is exactly what my wife and I need to do in order to honor the life-affirming woman that Conny was.

Leaving Geneva for the Valais

In that spirit, I headed to the mountains of Valais, invited by friends to take over their chalet while they were on vacation.

Part of me is reticent as I board the train with my faithful dog Rocky of 12 years to head off into the hills.  I am not experienced at mourning, and even as I savour the Paul Auster novel I am reading on the train, I think of my love, rushing off to Colombia to bury her sister.

Only the book’s bittersweet commentary on love and loss consoles me as we trundle along through the pass from Vaud into Valais.  Riders are a mixed bag of kids soaking up the European summer, moms taking their kids out to visit out of touch friends, and locals headed out to the country for some fresh air.

Upon arrival in Sierre I ask the local bus driver if I can stuff my mountain bike into the cargo hold.

Surprisingly, given the sparse traffic and large bay for camping equipment or similar, he responds that I will have to get the funicular up to Montana, and then ride down the mountain to my destination, Mollens.

Too tired to keep on hiking, Valais

At the top of the mountain, I slip out of the car deftly with the dog leash slung over the handlebar of my bike and deposit my cargo on the sidewalk in front of the depot to take shots of our motley crew.

Rocky obliges, sitting down in front of the marquee for the station; she is a fashion hound stuck in the body of a German Shepherd mix.

Without a map, we make our way down what seems to be the main road leading to the villages below.  I doubt my own memory a few kilometers down the mountain and backtrack up the hill to take a side road marked “100m trail.”

My old companion is showing her age, reluctantly turning back up the mountain; when she was a pup, I used to take her on 4 and 5 hour rides, but she lets me know that those days are gone now and demands that I get off my bike to walk after a short ride uphill.

The descent on the side road turns into a wonderland adventure traversing thrown up cow pastures and forgotten apple orchards.  I revel in the emptiness and sense of time frozen circa 1960.

We continue downhill on what I know to be a logging road, crossing refurbished Swiss mountain retreats every now and again, reminding that everyone enjoys their solitude.  Eventually we emerge onto hardtop again, and I throw it into low gear to let Rocky catch her breath.

We traverse a flat stretch with amazing views of the southern mountains of the Valais and I think once again, how close to my Vermont upbringing this terrain is.

Camping in the Swiss Alps

After an hour and a half, a good push uphill, and some stunning views of a river gorge, we emerge alongside Aminona, and I know we are close to our destination.

In fact, I can almost see our friends yard from the cliffs above, but without a forest service map, we are forced to continue along the blacktop, Rocky now seriously lagging behind and forcing me to stop for a breather now and again.

I fight the urge to be impatient and petulant with her; she is over 70 in human years and this beast has virtually raised my 10 year old daughter.

I slow to a crawl in recognition of the fact I have become caretaker to a geriatric loved one.

The last hour of our descent is spent largely sauntering along the road, taking care to keep Rocky out of way of the few cars that come by.

The few pedestrians we encounter look at my dog painfully dragging a hind leg she has injured, then at me, and comment “elle est fatigée,” and then I imagine under their breath, “what a bastard that owner is.”

The trip has taken much longer than I anticipated, and I too think I will end up slinging the dog over my shoulders like a wounded comrade, to drag her down the mountain.

Paradise in the Valais

We arrive at our oasis around 4 pm, the trip has taken four and a half hours; 1.5 in the train, and another 3.5 scrambling down the mountain from Crans-Montana.

I unload the gear into the house while my companion collapses spread shepherd on the flagstone patio.

This dog, reminds me once again, of our life stages; our invincible youth, the complacency of mid-life, and the weight of responsibility to care for our loved ones when life lays us low.

For Conny with much love, who got to see these mountains before her untimely death.

Constanza enjoying the Swiss Alps with our dog in tow

Constanza in Sion, making faces as always

Conny seeing the Swiss mountains for the first time

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